And only faith shall save our Kingdom
by Nuine-Naine
Summary: Great Britain, 19th century. A queen who wishes to conquer what once belonged to her. And against her stand only two young Ladies, a loyal butler and a mysterious cook, trying to create a kingdom of their own.
1. Chapter 1

Hello, guys! This is Naine speaking. Here I proudly present the first chapter of Nuine's and my first story published on FF.

It might be a bit bumpy at first but, rest assured, over the weeks, no, months we have been writing on this piece, our style became better and better (which means the chapters grew longer and longer ^^).

I don't want to hold you back any longer. Just look out for drama, sarcasm and hot men in this story ^^

Have fun!

* * *

Summary

England, 19th century

In a world threatened by war, the two orphaned friends Lady Myriam Darcy and Lady Myra Christina Sackville Dashwood, mistresses of the counties Gloucestershire and Sussex, try to live independent lives in an age dominated by men. Together with the loyal Japanese butler Juou Daidouji and the mysterious French cook Fay de Flourite, they are eager to master the hardships of their era. Not only do they have to deal with the consequences following each of the Ladies own secrets, but must also endure the pursuance of the sercret Royal Police called The Diogenes Club. And what secret lies behind the enigmatic character called "M", who claims that the two women's parents didn't die in an accident but are alive and want their children to join their fight against the Crown?

* * *

Chapter 01

England 1811, the Darcy estate near Bristol, appendent to the county Gloucestershire

It was a wonderful day for a ride. Wide blue skies, a cool fresh breeze, green meadows. Under an apple tree sat a slender young women with shoulder-length auburn hair and blue-green eyes, nibbling on one of the sweet fruits, while observing her black mare searching the grass in hope for a fruit or two for herself. The most uncommonly fact about this woman was her wearing men's riding attire: a black hat, dark jacket and vest over a white shirt and cravat, beige trousers and black leather boots.

The young woman, called Lady Myriam Darcy, enjoyed the view over her lands. She was the mistress of the fields and forests with an extend of about 300 acres and of the beautiful estate of Parque Fatale, where she lived with a small number of housemaids, employees, butlers and with her very best friend, Lady Myra Christina Sackville Dashwood. Christina and her, both of the age of three and twenty, knew each other since their infancy, for their parents were close friends and had spent their holidays together as often as possible. Their fathers, Lord Bradley Darcy and Lord Reginald Sackville Dashwood, were both Earls of the counties Gloucestershire and Sussex. Since their husbands were as close as brothers, the fair Ladies Francoise Darcy and Muriel Agnes Brassey Dashwood had known eachother for far more than words can describe.

After Myriam finished her apple, she mounted her horse and goaded it to gallop. Riding by the fields, where cattle, goats and sheep were grazing jovially, she soon saw the stables and gave the mare into the capable hands of a stable-lad. She walked along the three-storey-building, greeted the men and women working in the gardens and approached the entrance to her pride and joy, Parque Fatale. And what an enchantig place it was. The high walls were of an earthy red colour, the frames of the grand windows as white as a swans feather and two columns flanked the leaf door. Wide fields and copses surrounded the estate and in the front yard, encircled by pruned trees and bushes was a lake, filled with fat fish. The fields for vegetables and fruits were in the backyard, protected from the strong winds by Parque Fatale itself.

Right next to the door waited the butler and Myriam's good friend Juou Daidouji with a towel at hand. The tall, black haired Japanese with eyes as red as rubies and of 24 years of age, always wore a slight frown on his handsome face. But it was this frown that dared Myriam to try and lure a smile on those strong features. Juou was a well build man and she had to admit, that it was hard for her not to touch him.

"Was it a comfortable ride, m'Lady?"

"It was most refreshing, thank you, Juou."

Myriam accepted the cloth gratefully and dabbed her brow, walking through the high entrance hall straight towards the flight of stairs, that led up to the first storey of the private rooms. Juou followed right behind her.

"Lady, may I speak an open word with you?"

Taking two steps at a time, Myriam left her hat on one of the wooden ornaments adorning the handrail, which Juou picked up as he passed it. Whilst tossing her hair, the young princess Darcy looked back to the tall man and smiled.

"Please, my friend! Tell me, what is it that occupies your always worried mind, today."

She opened the door leading to her rooms, kicked off the leather boots and started to unclothe herself. Meanwhile Juou approached the wardrobe, took a plain dress, which had already been out of fashion years ago, and placed it on the large bed.

"M'Lady, I don't understand why you must behave yourself like this."

Juou stepped back and examined his mistress.

"You know that it is not appropriate for a woman, and especially for a lady of your rank, to wear men's clothing. I told you again-"

"Again and again, that it is outrageous for a little woman like me to dress herself up like this, ignoring all rules of our society. I know, Juou. I heard it a thousand times."

Myriam placed the jacked she was wearing on a chair and began unbuttoning the vest. She gave Juou her most rebellious smile.

"And I will tell you again and again, my dear friend. I. Don't. Care. And besides-"

Together with the cravat, the vest glided carelessly on the floor. Slowly and with swaying hips the young lady strolled towards the servant, caressing her slender waist. She was barefoot, the trousers showing her slim legs, her torso hidden under the white long-sleeved shirt, the neck line revealing only the slightest hint of a smooth bosom, captured in a white corset. She placed a delicate finger on Juou's strong chest, traced the pattern of the smooth black fabric under her skin and stopped right beneath his chin.

"I think, you of all people are rather fond of my taste in garment, are you not?"

Myriam purred, almost leaning against Juou's body, a sweet smile on her red lips. After a moment, she stepped back and took off the shirt and the trousers. Only wearing her shift dress and corset, she turned, walked to the bed and picked up the dress. It was a simple cotton dress with a broad neck line and long sleeves, dyed in a light violet colour. Tying a darkblue ribbon right under her bosomline, Myriam slipped in a pair of comfortable shoes and went off to the kitchen, while Juou picked up the scattered clothes.

As she approached the kitchen, she could already smell the delicious work of her best cook, Fay de Flourite. The tall blond Frenchman, with eyes, sharing the same blue light as the name he was given and a constant smile on his handsome features, was a god at the stove, for he knew how to season each and every dish to his ladies liking. Fay had joined the family right after the wedding of Lord and Lady Darcy. When the new mistress of Parque Fatale had departed for England, her maidservant begged her to take her son with them. He has been a member of the family ever since. Regarding his age, nobody, not even Myriam, was really sure just how old Fay was. He never mentioned it to any person before but Myriam thought of him as a man in his late twenties, as for the charming butler, he apparently counted a little more than two decades of history. Myriam stepped into the room, spread her arms and called: "Tell me, Fay, master of the cuisine fatale, where is my Sister, not in blood but in bond!"

Standing at a table slicing vegetables, Fay gestured with the knife towards a figure, sitting across of him.

"Right here, _mon lys_! And, as always, with her nose in a book, just like you left her hours ago."

The brunette stepped closer to her friend, giving Fay a grateful nod.

"Thanks, lad! Well well well. What do we have here? Our very first female teacher of Bristol University, captivated by her own work. Shouldn't you try to fascinate your pupils a bit more instead of burying yourself in it?"

Bent over the table sat Myriam's best friend, Lady Myra Christina Sackville Dashwood. Her long light brown hair has been pinned up and a few locks caressed her cheeks, slightly flushed thanks to the warm steam in the room. The slim figure of her rather long body, for Christina was a few inches higher than Myriam, was clothed in a scarab blue, long-sleeved dress with a high collar and a hem that almost touched the ground. The quilling adorning the collar, arms and waist were of black colour.

Myriam touched Christina's shoulder.

"How was your day, my friend?"

A moment of silence later, Christina looked up and smiled.

"It was most interesting! You can't imagine what a compliancy it is to teach these young men and women and to prepare them for their future."

"Indeed I do not know this joyous feeling. And I must be honest, I don't feel any need for it. But enough of this. Would you care to join me for a few moments of peace in the library?"

Slightly resentful, Christina closed the book and stood up. Linking her arm with Myriam's, she strolled out of the kitchen towards the library.

"I don't understand why you can't talk with me about my work, Myriam. I so much liked to share my dreams with you."

"I would love to talk about your dreams, Christina, but I do not feel like it right now. Another time maybe."

They passed the stairs as Myriam stopped and unlinked their arms.

"Would you be so kind as to go ahead without me, my dear? I still have to read some letters regarding the company."

"Yes, sure. I shall tell Juou to make some tea."

"Thank you! I will be back in a minute."

While Myriam went upstairs to go to her father's office, Christina entered the library.

After the assumed death of her parents Lord Bradley and Lady Franciose Darcy, Myriam took over the management of her father's company, Darcy Shipping, which was the major in- and export firm of cotton, wool and other drapery in the Royal Kingdom and the colonies. Since Lord Bradley inherited the stewardship of the whole county Gloucestershire from his father, whom it was bestowed on by the former King William IV himself for outstanding achievements in the great war, Myriam was now the princess of the shire and, thanks to her parent's unorthodox acquaintanceships, could easily delay the procedure of finding a male heir in her family to inherit the county and everything she thought her own legacy. Myriam was thankful for her parent's extraordinary attitude, for it had saved her from a long extravagant name like Christina's.

The library was the sanctuary for both the young women; a wide hall with comfortable upholstered furniture, the walls covered with filled bookshelves. After she called for Juou, Christina walked along the frames, the tip of her finger caressing the spine of the books she passed. When she decided to skim through an edition of "Modern English Poetry", she seated herself on a cushioned window sill. Absorbed in the world of colourful landscapes and romantic words forming in her mind, she was startled as her friend's hand, holding a sheet of paper, appeared before her eyes. Christina turned around to see the frowning face of Myriam. Sighing, Lady Darcy left the note in her hands, turned around and sunk down onto the soft settee. She reached up to her face and began to massage the root of her nose.

"Can you believe it? The East India Trading Company demands another shipment of english wool and chinese silk for the colonies in Africa."

Myriam gestured to the letter in Christina's hands.

"Their reason is the 'integration of the barbarian habitants into the British society'. How ridiculous!"

Christina's gaze flew over the piece of paper.

"Well, you know how everybody thinks. 'The way of the Empire is the way of the world'." Myriam laid down on her back and took a deep breath.

"Yes...the way of the Empire...what a joke."

It grew quiet, the women were caught in their own thoughts. It was Christina who broke the silence.

"Do you remember, Myriam? Those times when our parents returned from one of their journeys? We always had to stay in England because they were afraid of us catching one of the foreign diseases. But every time they came back, they would tell us stories of the lands they had travelled."

Smiling benignly Myriam thought back to those days.

"Yes. We loved the nights in front of the fireplace, listening to their adventures. It seemed the halls and rooms were filled with flowers, more beautiful than anything we have ever behold, and white elephants, tigers and horses walked through the corridors."

Carrying a tray with a can of tea and two cups, Juou entered the room and placed it on a wooden desk nearby.

"Your tea, m'Ladies."

Christina stood up and took one of the fragile porcelain he offered her. Thanking him, she turned to Myriam, who was still laying on the settee with no intention to move an inch. It grew silent again as Christina sipped the hot brew of Earl Grey tea. Smiling ever so slightly, she walked towards the window and gazed at the reddening sky.

"You are still aware of our holding a ball two days from now, I hope?"

Another moment of silence. Then a dreadful sigh escaped her friend's lips.

"No, my dear. I am afraid it completely slipped my mind."

"Well, then you should be thankful calling me your loyal sister, because I started with the preparations more than three days ago."

Myriam sat up and reached for Christina, who sat down right next to her. Holding her by her side, a smile spread on Lady Darcy's face.

"At last we have an excuse to invite all those snotty Lords and Ladies again. I can't wait to tease our suitors and enrage our neighbour's daughters! It has been far too long since we enjoyed ourselves."

* * *

Okay, this was the first chapter. I admit it, this was my doing. But don't be sad, it gets better. Promise!

We would love to read your feedback ^^

See ya around

Naine


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 02

England 1811, Bristol University, an auditorium of English Literature

Whilst Lady Myriam had all hands to do planning the, what she thought of as a frivolled request, shipments for the East India Trading Company, Christina concentrated on nurturing all those curious minds awaiting her lectures on long dead English gentlemen gifted with the talent of expressing every feeling through the dreamiest lines written by the mere tip of their only feather.

"As for this paragraph all of us readers ought to keep close attention to the tension building itself with every further line."

Her long fingers carefully slid across the board, emphasizing the lines she had drawn there, for her handwriting was as beautiful as a painting. The eager listeners, all sharing the same astonished gaze, had not yet been informed that their new professor was not only much younger than to be expected, but also a woman. The very first female teacher Bristol University had encountered and accepted as natural as can be, after weeks of struggling, at least.

"The rhythm of the single words is similar to a sweet humming spring morning, birds chatting from beneath the green leaves, gently swaying in the first winds, just arriving out of a sapphire blue sky." The young Lady looked into the still frozen images of more than a hundred young students. The sweet and silent sigh exceeding her cherry coloured lips matched her worryful grey eyes, searching throughout the room, meeting the other's ashamed eyes.

Every day she gave lectures about modern and historical literature, poetry, as well as English calligraphy, being her second favored way of spending warm summer afternoons in the refreshing gardens of Parque Fatale.

"My assuming starting in the earlier poetry benefitting all of us occurs as proven to me now. Please listen to my reading these lines again. I then shall await your report until the 5th May."

A knock on the great oaken doors sought all eyes to a tall and handsome remaining aged man, slowly entering the hall. Christina bowed in a too former way, as he rose his voice, a husky tone, veiled in silky words.

"My, I am terribly sorry for my intrusion! Miss Dashwood, please forgive my rudeness."

Whilst taking off his hat he slowly strolled along the tables, carefully watching every pair of eyes following his predacious movements.

"Please do not trouble your busy mind with such unimportance. What is it that I can do for you, Mister Hamett? I am sure your work is keeping you very attended at all times."

A student stood up, his face torn in anger, and walked down the path between the tables straight towards his professor. As he reached her he presented his chin and proudly walked out of the hall. Without moving any facial muscle but smiling faintly, Christina watched him leave.

"Miss Dashwood, shall we? As you correctly assumed my time is spare and I would be delighted to spend it enjoying a cup of tee with you, rather than having you lecturing on dead men."

Darwin Hamett was a man of only few smiles, rich, powerful and happened to also inhabit the reputation to not exactly be of a patient character. His averseness to poetry did not make him a more pleasant visitor to Christina.

"Of course, please wait for me in my office, as any visitor would do. There remain still a few unsettled lines, which I would most likely not ignore for their beauty is too great to give up on a cup of tee."

No trace of the smile remained in Christina's now icy voice, speaking out what she had wanted to point out many years already, for this man was longing for an attachment for the past three years and seemed to likely consider the princess of Bexhill Manor.

Her parents Lord Gilbert George Reginald Sackville Dashwood, the seventh earl of Sussex and her beloved mother Lady Muriel Agnes Brassey Dashwood both were of commonly known and wealthy families, inheriting a long tradition, in names as well as in reputation. For her ancestry was a great trump to any bachelor, Christina hardly ever lived a day without invitations to balls, dinners, family meetings. Bexhill Manor was rather cozy, not adhering many acres of land or treasures, as some believed. But the small city it belonged to, Bexhill-on-Sea, was as rich as could be, beloved by travellers in and outer Britain providing Myra Christina, as her name actually was, a safe, wealthy life and a chance to decide for herself. Even though they had always encouraged her to socialize and marry early, her mother had been married to her father at the mere age of sixteen. After the assumed death of their parents, Myriam had invited Christina to live with her and so she and Juou, who had more or less grown up with his mistress, delightfully accepted the favor, everything had been better than sharing spacious rooms and endless hallways with nothing but the ghosts, said to have lived at Bexhill Manor ever since the accident, not mentioning that they were blessed to live with their childhood friends.

"Of course, as Miss Dashwood wishes."

The great hallways of the university always seemed gloomy and dark to Christina, whenever another oh-so-important bachelor came to intrude into her work, considering it a nuisance that his soon to be mistress thought of herself as skilled enough to teach at a university as repudiated as Bristol's was. Slowly she opened the door to her little office and entered, finding what she had hoped maybe would have dissolved itself after half an hour of waiting.

"Pardon, my Lord, I needed to make clear to my students that William Shakespeare had not only been a genius, but a man gifted with a talent never again to be found. Especially not in our current days. May I offer you some tea, Mister Hamett?"

"I would most likely love to drink a cup of tea and discuss a more important topic with you, Miss Dashwood."

He gave her the sort of gaze she could read his soul and thoughts of. Sighing almost unbearably, she put on her favorite masking smile and reached out for a cup of her most favored Earl Grey tea.

"What could this so important matter be, my Lord?"

Setting his cup aside, he made a few steps in her direction, now only having a beautifully carved, oaken chair between them. All of the furniture in Bristol University was oaken, heavy and dark, suiting its monstrous walls and high ceiling. It almost seemed like a castle full of knights, or rather brigands as she frequently thought, and her as the only maid in between all this testosterone-triggered cockfights, seen as some sort of prize and rival at the same.

"Miss Dashwood, Myra, you have to be reasonable. As a women of your rank you cannot leave Bexhill Manor unattended for too long."

There it started again. Bored she took a careful sip of her tea. Same as Lady Myriam, she could not bear to listen to all this nonsense.

"Pardon me for being so rude as to directly conduct this to you. But you ought to find an heir, capable of sorting affairs for you. A young women like yourself surely does not have to spend her precious time trying to teach of subjects her limited female mind cannot even understand fully."

Every time she had to go through the same procedure, hearing of her limited female abilities, her need of an heir and all these men, pleading out of their great and generous hearts wanting to find a solution for an unlucky, unprotected maid. She took another sip of tea, slowly putting back her cup onto the saucer.

"I assure you, Mister Hamett, that I am on my best way of considering the possibility to maybe one day consider a mister for _my _manor."

Putting the cup and saucer aside, she stepped back in an attempt to reach for her teaching books, but the tall man moved so quickly in between her and her desk that she nearly hustled her teacup over his arm.

"I will make this clear to you, Miss Myra."

Bending down, only having centimeters separate their noses, his eyes became narrow and his voice lost its silky touch, roaring silently imitating a lion about to tear his pray.

"You _need _me, even if your Ladyship does not attempt to admit it, she needs an heir."

"I am sure that my Lord is thinking of only my best, but I can on the contrary reassure him that my ability of handling affairs is equal if even not higher than that of a potential heir, who rather counts his money and acres than even devoting only a single breath for a beloved woman, ready to leave all of his belongings at any time to save her from an unlucky fate. As a matter of fact, should a man of your rank not have decided for a fitting mistress a long time ago? Instead of wasting our both precious time you should rather aim for a height you can reach."

Anger rose to his face as he started caressing her white skin with the back of his hand.

"As my Lady wishes, I would normally say, but I have heard quite a thing about a women who spends the nights outside her safe room. Have you heard of her name? She is known as 'The Black Widow' for every man spending a time of pleasure with her is found half dead the next day, supposedly poisoned and not capable of remembering even his own name. I was wondering if you had heard about it, Lady Myra."

His fingers ran along her chin and stopped underneath her lips. She very much disapproved of his calling her so for after her parent's vanishing she had changed to be called her second name, Christina and only four people were allowed to speak out her true name, among them only two were still alive. "Maybe a Lady like her should consider a more suitable profession, maybe as an university lecturer, such as yourself?"

Firstly smirking, Darwin Hamett swung around, as with a creak the office door opened.

"And such a Lady ought to learn how to discipline servants correctly."

The dear cook of Parque Fatale was standing outside the office door, a small white package in his hands. He bowed with his elegant smile, watching the angry gentlemen rush past him through the entrance.

"He just cannot stand not being able to attain what he longs for… What a bother."

Christina let herself fall back, leaning onto the high shelves filled with books about love, passion, romance and their all so dramatic end, as reality reaches its claws to hold every dream from escaping towards the blue skies. Fay slowly entered the small room, closing the heavy door carefully, as to not allow anyone to intrude this small world his mistress had when she was alone. She slid down, her dress becoming meddled up with a pile of books, immediately scattering on her feet and the floor.

"_Ma fleur_, Lady Myriam has sent me to bring you your daily lunch, along with another letter of the East India Trading Company,… addressed to you."

Lifting her face off her hands, she looked up.

"Why addressed to me? I had and never intended to have any business with them."

With her right hand she brushed her hair back, allowing her ribbon, holding her long hair curled up, to slide next to the books. It had been a present from her mother, made out of Ascala wool and of an aquamarine colour, brought with her from one of her journeys to India when Christina had been only twelve years old. Every day she wore it in her barnet to remind herself of achieving her dreams, no matter how difficult it seemed. Sitting with her long hair hanging into her sad features, she took the letter Fay was still holding out for her. Her eyes quickly flew over the black letters, her mood darkening with every sentence.

"_Ma fleur_, where would you like to enjoy your lunch?"

Fay had crouched in front of his mistress, carefully reading her expression changing and kindly smiled at her, as he reached out to coat the streak of the light brown curtain off Christina's slender shoulder, also picking up the ribbon from the floor.

"I wonder, if this will ever stop, Fay. Will we ever be able to flee from the nonsense we encounter as our daily lives since our parents 'died' in that strange carriage accident?"

She looked up into his shining blue eyes, ever since she had been to Parque Fatale for the very first time, these eyes would always soothe her soul.

"My Lady, I cannot answer a question such as this. But I can tell you, your lunch will soon be _sans plaisir_, if you do not relish it soon enough, not to mention my effort in making it for my lovely flower!"

Gratefully smiling she accepted the hand he offered her and got up, forgetting the books around her feet so that she tripped and had to be caught by Fay to not toss over the teacups. Standing there in his arms she carefully leaned her forehead against his collar.

"Can I let the food be for only a moment longer, _mon chéf de cuisine_?"

A tear slowly ran over her cherry cheek.

"_Bien sûr, ma princesse_."

After more than what seemed like hours, Fay again raised his soft voice, speaking to the hair he had been gently caressing all the time.

"Lady Myra, if I may say something?"

If his velvet like voice spoke her given name, it was as pleasing and felt as much home as her mother's calling, even if not parental.

"Of course, tell me what is on your mind. If you intend to say anything, you know you may speak at any time, Fay."

Only a mumble escaped her lips, her face buried in his shawl whilst her slender body leaned heavily against his, her weight completely adhered by his soft embrace, for at this time she was not capable to stand upright on her own, displaying her weak and breakable side to her longtime friend, always giving her best efforts to hide it from anyone than him for he would ever see right through her eyes at her soul.

"I was wondering why my mistresses should bother over an heir for their estates, as to my knowledge there exists a suitable person able to keep _les aspirants_ out of their honorable ways, _non_?"

For the first time in a long while she looked up at his face, directly into the light holding her to reality. "Assumingly one man were able to protect two women, unbelievably enough, it would certainly not be enough to marry both, _non_?"

Christina stepped back, immediately being released out of the safe embrace. Fay bowed slightly, offering his mistress the ribbon in one hand and holding out the other to his heart. Never would they say a word about her tears, nor about the closeness they shared. Sitting down on her office chair, she gestured Fay to assist her hair. Endearingly curling her streaks through his hands, he braided the ribbon in between them, careful as though he were painting.

"You will always remain a true artist, will you not? I do not feel too well, accompany me home." Finishing his work, he slightly stroke her neck with the tips of his fingers, just enough to allow her to close her eyes and breathe deeply.

"I will remain an artist for all my life, if it is to please _mes chères fleurs_ and soothe their worries."

Resentful she sighed, turning her face towards him.

"If it were only possible to encounter a suitor as gifted and fitting as y-"

Suddenly the heavy doors swung open again, displaying Darwin Hamett, breathing heavily, angrily, with fierce eyes.

"You! How dare a girl of your low rank insult me like this!"

Screaming loudly, stomping to the desk, he exhaled a deep breath.

"It's a shame that I have to do this. Your loving Bexhill Manor would have been a suitable prize for a man such as myself – but unfortunately you will have to give all of it up when I reveal this tomorrow. Prepare for the consequences of your denying my proposal, fair Lady. And prepare for my telling the press what a shameless affair you are having!"

"What are you talking about, Mister Hamett? I don't quite seem to understand…"

"It happens, that I am in possession of evidence proving you to have met the honorable Earl of Wales, and not under suitable circumstances, but in most awkward occurrence! Not enough you seducing your servants in this honorable university!"

Silence struck the small room, beams of sunlight and shadows of outside tree leaves taking their turns dancing over the mirages of the three.  
"Evidence for an artificial crime, I presume?"

Christina spoke in a low and dangerous voice, being careful to remain calm and seemingly knowing. "Oh, not a crime, my princess of Bexhill, rather unmoral seduction. Be aware of-"

"Of what? My good Mister Hamett, I feel it is my duty to inform you about a matter of most importance. Behold that my family has never been pleased with your attempts of supporting Bexhill-on-Sea, neither have I ever had in mind to engage myself in an attachment with the likes of you. As for anything else concerning my person in special, it is none of your business. Leave my office immediately, before you disgrace your pathetic self even more."

"Milady, may I suggest for us to return to Parque Fatale?"

Fay observed both parties, waiting for an answer, as Christina nodded her consent and set off for the door, caught at her arm halfway out by Mister Hamett, his gaze cold and disgusted.

"Watch your mouth, Lady Dashwood. This will be the only warning. At tomorrow's ball I shall unveil everything I know, including your mortifying affair with your charming French gardener here."

Fay slowly stepped towards the to him small man.

"May I ask the Lord to release my Lady?"

Leaving Fay a last measuring, observing look, Hamett tossed Christina back into her office, where her dear Frenchman caught her.

"Your mother, Muriel Dashwood, had always nourished what seemed to be a friendship to an extent that was rather doubtful, I believe. I am ashamed to experience the same about her so-called princess Dashwood, even going as far as considering the same man for these _petites jeux_ ."

In cold rage he left the office, the sound of his clip-clopping shoe heels and cone echoing off the stone walls for a long time of silence back in the now shadowy office.

"I intend to ignore his ostensible evidence, though I believe him to be sharp enough for being considered a risk to our ambitions."

Christina released herself from Fay's arms and patted her own, a faint smirk now playing around her lips, she was aware of what had to be done until tomorrow evening.

"Let us return home, Fay."

Lady Myriam had been in the garden all morning, worrying over the shipping for the East India Trading Company, the letter Christina had received and about their hosting a ball already tomorrow evening. Her path had lead her to cross the stables more than five times, the loyal butler always following her, as if he were a shadow, listening to her talk without answering.

"I don't understand! Why would they go so far as to send my dear sister a letter? She never had any direct aversion with them. We are always careful to remain in parted business, it is too risky to work too tightly."

The clip-clopping of horse heels grew louder, only a moment later two grey horses dashed over the meadows towards Parque Fatale's stables, scaring the grazing sheep and making them scatter in panic. "Finally!"

Myriam rose her hands to greet her sister, immediately noticing her tensed mood. Christina slowly descended and entrusted Fay with her stallion, only sharing a short glance with him.

"My dear, what happened?"

Myriam's sharp senses never deceived her. She turned to Fay and seemed to search for something in his veiling smile.

"First let me rest a little, then let us have a cup of tea. I will of course tell you what happened."

With a sigh Christina turned to her best friend and tried her hardest to show a smile. Juou stepped forward, bowed and softly laid his hands on Lady Dashwoods' shoulders, allowing her overcoat to slide into his arms. The two young women hooked up and entered the house without saying another word.

Juou glanced at Fay, catching him in a second of not masking his face with the usual delightness.

"Even if I beat you, you wouldn't tell me what happened."  
"Was that rather a question or a statement?" Again smiling an angelic smile, Fay turned and lead the two horses into the stables. Never could anybody guess what those two men hid behind their so different gazes, one always wearing a frown and as if to compensate, the other constantly beaming.

"You know exactly well, what happened, I assume. Why ask me? Are you trying to practice conversation, _mon vieux pote_?"

"Don't give me that Siamese smile of yours, it doesn't suit your worried expression well. Rather than wasting your time with trying to behave whimsical you should get over with this anguish attitude of yours."

Not saying another word, the tall black man left the stables without turning around again.

"I wonder when you learned to see through me so well, _mon serviteur_?"

Entering the library Juou found his mistresses sitting tightly together, sharing merely a small space on the window bench. Christina leaned on Myriam's shoulder with her eyes closed and silently told her about the events of the day, while Myriam stroke through her hair with one hand and at the same time looked at a paper in her other hand. He slowly stepped closer, bowed again and began to arrange tea cups and saucers.

Myriam rumpled the letter, her features darkening. Juou left the room and silently closed the door behind him, as she started talking.  
"I can't believe them. I am just not capable of understanding their twisted ideas! How dare they bother about Bexhill Manor's heirship?"

Angrily she threw back her hair, as if to shake the bad news off. Christina let her head fall back and leaned against the window, listening to the sound of upcoming rain.

"I don't know either, lovely. Not enough Hamett bothering me, but also their request to abuse Bexhill-On-Sea as 'headquarters for central shipping policy'. Just what is happening here?"

Silence struck upon the room, heavy raindrops commencing their dance on the high windows of Parque Fatale.

"_Sî notrê vies sommes un rêve, momentanémon rèveille moi_…"  
Listening to the words Christina whispered into the silence, Myriam gazed out of the window.

"That dark sky above us gives me the creeps, as if to emphasize the matter."

Following Myriam's eyes, Christina stared at the clouds darkening the sky. Juou reentered the room, carrying a tea kettle on a silver tablet.

"If my Ladies wish, the tea is served."

Silently Myriam got up, walking towards him. Putting the tablet aside he almost not perceptibly stepped back, with another polite bow. As Myriam reached for a tea cup, Juou suddenly caught her right hand in his silken glove. Christina lead her head to the other side, her lips forming a slight grin.

"Forgive me my rudeness, this cup happens to have a cut you could have hurt yourself on. I will immediately replace it, forgive this mistake."

Stunned, Myriam watched him leave the room with the cup in his hand.

"What…. was that?"

"My lovely, I assume - but I could be wrong - he, as a matter of fact, just now tried to cheer you up…"

Christina now stood next to her friend. Myriam needed a long moment to recover from this moments' bizarreness. Christina turned to her friend and thought to have seen a red shade on her cheeks. She could not help but laugh out loudly, which Myriam credited with silent criticism.

"I'm sorry. I will go to look after our dinner preparations, today I have something special in mind."

Just when she was at the door, she turned around.

"And greet Juou with a charming smile, will you?"

"Why you-!"

Myriam immediately blushed bright red and hushed her friend out of the library. The moment the door closed, she gently touched her right hand, a smile sidling around her lips.

Taking a sip of the hot tea, she again gazed at the dark clouds.

Several minutes later, Juou returned, holding another exemplar of elegant Chinese pottery.

"My Lady, if you will excuse me again, I shall prepare your dinner."

As he was about to turn around, Myriam held him by his sleeve, making him turn around and look at her in surprise. She could feel his body stiffen slightly.  
"Christina is heading to the kitchen at this very moment. I would wish you to keep me some company, my dear friend."

Though with a frowning face, her butler did not deny his Lady's wish. Pouring her another cup of tea, he patiently waited for her to speak.

"You see, for all this time, since Christina and you moved to Parque Fatale, I did not feel lonely even one time. I wonder if that should change, once we are forced to find an heir…."

Thoughtfully Myriam walked to the broad window front, her fingertips gently wiping along the cold glass. Juou kept silent for a moment, then put the kettle aside, moving very cautious and silently.

"M'Lady, I believe that time might come, but until then we will always stay at our Ladies' sides, assuring you a comfortable and happy living."

Surprised by his speaking, she swung around and stared at his now nearly friendly face. For only a moment the frown was almost gone. Myriam nodded her head, her long hair suddenly falling over her shoulders again. With a brisk movement she banned them back, walked passed Juou and left the library, seeking her sister, for she had an idea.

Frowning again, the butler gathered cups, saucers and kettle, faintly watched his mistress leave.

As Christina reached the hallway leading to Fay's domain, in advance she was able to recognize the delicious smell of his doing. Every day she spent a great deal of time there, mostly reading and enjoying with every sense, whatever Fay was whipping up. Today she had had an highly unpleasant encounter and was dwelled to find his preparing their favorite food.

"My magician, you truly are incredible. Always knowing our wishes, before even we know of them."

Looking up from stirring a soup in a veraciously giant cauldron, he smiled enchantingly.

"Why, of course! How could I call myself a good cook, if not knowing of _mes fleures_' dreams? Would M'Lady like to have a try?"

Offering her the likewise giant spoon, she nodded and accompanied him behind the stove. Holding one hand beneath the spoon he looked her deeply in the eye.

"Careful, the soup still is extraordinarily hot, do not drink too quickly."

"I know, really….."

As told to, she only carefully took a sip of the wonderfully smelling, orange soup. She had expected it to be delicious, but every time she tried his cooking, it seemed to taste even better.

"For how often I may try your cooking, every time it still surprises me of its incredibly delicious taste!" Beaming she bent over to take another sip, still very careful. After a third sip, Fay laughed, reached out for his handkerchief and softly wiped the soup of Christina's cheek.

"And for how often you may try my cooking, you will always need a handkerchief afterwards!"

"Really, be silent!"

Laughter echoed through the hallway, as Juou passed the great oven on his way to the kitchen, located directly next to the stairway. He entered the room, found his mistress and bowed.

"Lady Dashwood, I allowed myself to arrange the evenings' coatrack, as every day. Do you wish to have a bath before we serve dinner?"

"No, Juou, thank you. I shall return to Myriam. Thank you, _mon chéf_, I nearly cannot wait for our dinner, so delicious!"

When Christina's footsteps could not be heard anymore, Juou leaned against a small table, crossed his arms and silently began to speak. Fay had already begun slicing vegetables for the soup.

"For tomorrow evening I have asked two repudiated cooks to join. What are the plans for the menu so far?"

"Lamb, pork and cattle for meat. Several vegetable dishes and for exquisite guests I planned to prepare Chinese fried duck. Concerning the beverages, red wine would suit best."

A moment of silence occurred, before Juou was about to leave again. In an uncanny movement, Fay halted slicing the cucumbers laying in front of him.

"Say, John, what shall we do about tomorrow evening's event?"

Juou flinched at Fay calling him so, he really detested it, but nevertheless turned around and examined Fay's features. Although his smile was without doubt, Juou knew what this sudden question truly was about. He leaned against the door frame, again crossing arms, but at first did not say a single word. They both shared deep worry and affection for their Ladies. Concerning them, whatever made them sad, angry or disturbed had no right to trespass into the mansion, they took it as their duty to take a heed after their mistresses.

"We will see."

Only grumbling, Juou left the kitchen and Fay continued his work.

Myriam could see Christina had already arrived at their small dining table, reading another book. The library provided enormous space, enough for them to have a separate, small dining room right next to their beloved books. Already evening, they had not talked again, both being very busy with work and preparations for the following dance party.

Lady Darcy sat down and immediately Juou offered her some of Parque Fatale's own apple juice. Surrounding the lands belonging to the Darcy Estate there grew countless, old apple trees, providing the family with self produced apple juice for generations.

"Thank you, Juou."

Finally the young Lady Dashwood raised her eyes from her book and greeted her friend with a warm smile. Facing Christina, Myriam raised her glass and gifted her with a toast.

"Let tomorrow be a better day than today, right?"

"It better be, or I'll just stay in my bed…."

The two young women laughed and enjoyed their everyday so wonderful meal, Juou standing in the corner of the room, focusing his attention on tomorrow's events.

After the last bite, Myriam laid aside her fork, discretely dabbed her mouth and got up.

"I still have some letters to attend to, please excuse me."

"Certainly, I shall prepare my lessons, it is such a pleasure to lecture Shakespeare's marvelous works! You should visit my lectures someday, Myriam. I believe you could enjoy it!"

Myriam only shook her head, for her friend always was so convinced of her work. She would give a lot in exchange for such a pleasant feeling while being at work, for lately she had only been angry and disappointed.

"Another time, surely. Even though I doubt my enjoying it, you know that."

Christina granted her a broad grin and together they left the library, turning for their small offices after the entrance hall, Juou closing the heavy doors behind them. As every evening, he would now clean up, prepare his Ladies' beds and wait for them to rest. Afterwards he would organize more of the upcoming ball and late at night be able to rest himself, before he had to get up early, even before every other servant, just to prepare the morning paper, tea, and a daily plan for every servant. Fay would handle breakfast every morning, but still could get up a little later than him.

Taking a look at the clock hand of the long case clock, located on the opposite wall of the room, Myriam leaned back in her big armchair and massaged her temples, for so much work always resulted in an unbearable headache. For hours now had she been reading and answering letters, as well as planning the attendances for tomorrow's ball. It knocked at the door and Juou entered without awaiting permission.

"Lady Dashwood has gone to rest long ago, she sent me to ask you not to stay up all night."

Lady Darcy got up, stretched a little and walked past her butler.

"Thank you, now you go to rest, as well. Tomorrow shall be a very long and exhausting day…"

Bowing again, he did not leave his mistress alone, but guided her to her room. Upon looking through her premises, she could discover Christina already asleep in her bed. This was not unusual for them, nearly every night they spent together in one bed, shielding each other with warmth and affection, as blood-related sisters often did. Mostly they would talk for hours and hours, resulting in sleeping merely a bit and both being very tired the following day. Even during the long summer holidays the Dashwoods would spend in Bristol, Christina and Myriam had always sneaked into the other's bed at night to not sleep alone and they had been fully aware of their parents' noticing and not approving it. For they only regularly met each other for a few weeks during different holidays, spending every second together had evermore been the most important thing to them. Now they were able to, even if under rather displeasing circumstances.

"I will not wake her now. Go to rest, as well, Juou."

"Good night and sleep well, Lady Darcy."

With another bow the butler closed the door and his footsteps slowly grew more and more silent, as he descended down the stairs.

Carelessly hanging her clothes over a chair near another little table, Myriam dressed in her plain nightgown and snuck into bed right next to her best friend. She reached out for her hair and gently brushed it aside, so she could watch Christina's calm face.

"If we are asleep we are neither troubled, nor worried, are we? I hope you will have a pleasant dream, Christina. Sleep well."

Unlike Christina, who could sleep regardless where she was or what time of the day it was, Myriam woke up very easily and often was not at ease while sleeping. She turned on her left side and watched Christina's strokes falling back into her face again. Every day she would complain to Myriam about her long hair annoying her and being so much of a nuisance. Thinking about it, Myriam had to chuckle. The same way she herself always said to not care about her appearance, both her and Christina knew of each others hidden, but true thoughts. As Myriam wanted to be looked at by only one person and therefore did carefully choose what to wear and and how to arrange her hair. Only Christina and Fay knew of this and in exchange, Myriam had noticed their closeness. She had grown up with Fay and from the way he always stroke and brushed through Christina's hair Myriam could tell he admired it. Even though she wished only the best for her friend, she could not help but feel a bit of jealousy thinking about the warm looks and lovely smiles Fay constantly bestowed upon Christina. She would be glad for only one similar smile from her beloved, but always would find his frowning gaze.

Closing her eyes, she wished for a dream of a smiling butler.

The young Lady Dashwood slowly opened her eyes, turning to face her best friend, now finding her vast asleep. It must have been in the middle of the night already as Myriam came back, for there was absolutely no light left, only dim moonlight veiled the room. Although the rain had stopped, gray clouds still hung above, hiding the silver circle the moon displayed today. Full moon always was beautiful to watch at Parque Fatale, for it seemed placed directly above the mansion.

Very carefully to not wake Myriam, Christina got up and left the room, as silently as possible, for Myriam had only fallen asleep maybe half an hour ago. Merely dressed in her night gown she made her way towards the steps, suddenly spotting Fay on the stair head, with a guiding candle in his hand.

"_Salut, mon fleur nocturne_."

Not answering, she reached for the clothes he held out to her and started descending the stairs, closely followed by the light of his candle. They crossed the main hallway, ensured nobody saw them and quickly left the house, heading for the stables. Once inside, Christina began to unclothe herself, Fay standing with his back to her, only providing her some light.

"I will not be gone long tonight, so prepare everything within three hours. I will return before five o'clock, be sure to be done by then."

The flickering light of the candle dared to almost cease, as cold winds came blowing through the open windows. Shivering, Christina reached out for her new clothes, lying on a small table next to the hay stacks and dressed herself again, at the same time giving Fay her nightgown. Without turning around he held out his hand and for a split second his fingers caressed the back of her hand, before he retreated and quietly examined the horses with his eyes.

Christina reached out for the candle, noiseless striating Fay's hand in doing so, having him turn around and face the women she was at night. Without doubt in his cheerful features he lead her to her stallion, which already had been saddled, its fur shining with the same light as the moon. Guiding his mistress outside, he walked slowly past the big, iron main gate of Parque Fatale.

"Tonight will be very cold. Soon there will be dew and mist mixing in with the cold breeze."

Again facing his mistress, he lent her a hand at mounting her horse. As the moonlight's shadow shed upon him, he lead her hand to his lips and softly laid a breath upon them.

"_A la revoyure, mon Cytise_."

A faint smile hushed across her lips, as Lady Christina released her hand out of his hold and descended into the darkness.

Gazing after her slowly vanishing mirage in between the upcoming mist, he stood there, until her image was completely gone.

"Please, come back safely..."


End file.
